



5^ 'V''^!^*^^^^^ %^^^'\o^ V'"^1:^'\-?.^' -^ 



I* ..•• -. ' 











>^ ..V'. <^x 













V-^^ 






i- '^bV^ 



^--n^^ ;j 






>^°^ V 



^oV 









: J>% 

















IP^,. ,^v ^^^ o;^^^NF/ .^^""'^ \^^/ ^^^% ° 






■n 



■i: 







4 



( 



4* 



§? 




^ k ^^"^^^ 






Sweetheart T)r earns 

of 

Yesterday 

T)rawings by 

Edna Longest 

^erse by 

W. H. Nesbit 

Ch icago 

The Charles C. Thompson Co. 



(Not Inc.) 

T^ublishers 



/ 



-%-^^u~-,-f^^ 






t4 






o 



Q 






.#>©."' 




j^ 






=# 



Copyright 1909 
THE CHARLES C. THOMPSON CO. 

( Not Inc. ) 

CHICAGO 



©CI.A2532: 





/THE REVERIE, 
xWHO WERE THEY? - 
THE FIRST LOVE 
AT THE SHRINE 
/SWEET SIXTEEN - 
HER LETTERS - 
THE VINES THAT BUD - 
^ER HAIR - - - - 

THE DEBUTANTE 
■ HER LIPS 
DREAMING 
HER FROWN 
FROM THE BLUE GRASS 





Contents 



Continued 



/THE COUNTRY MAID 
/WISHES - - - 

>^THE PLAY IS THE THING 
.THE HERETIC - 
THE WIDOW 
HER VOICE 
O. PROMISE ME" - 
/ //ij/HER EYES 
(I I /THE MOTOR MAID 



-^-w 




:^ /• 



'THE TEAR 
A GUARDIAN ANGEL 



/ 



) \ ' HER CHEEKS 

;rHE BELLE OF THE BALL 
JO THE REAL ONE . 





.u 




THE REVERIE 



Ji Sweetheart T)ream of Long A go- --here in the dim-lit room 
With all the midnight magic of the shadow -faint perfume 
That drifts from roses far away, as though it came again, 
A n echo of the fragrance of the roses that were then. 

Jlnd now the smoke is wreathing in a Wonder -Wording haze. 
For through it smile the faces that I k^eW in other days--- 
The ringlets black ^^ golden, and the epes of brown or blue, 
The laughing lips and dimpling cheeks of all the girls I kpew, 

ylh, Well I I muse upon them, and upon the other years 
I coax again the laughter and the hopings and the fears ; 
I see again the garden wall, the willows by the brook, 
The clover nodding by the lane, the little vine-clad nook- 

So life is worth the living when one k^^ows what jo^s there are 

Blent in the subtle incense of his friendly^ old cigar-- - 

The incense that shapes idh) into faces he may see 

A nd gives him back the gladness of the days that used to be. 

The Sweetheart Dreams of Long Ago-they may be yours or mine; 
We loiter in the olden paths where all was fair and fine. 
Until out of the shadows, making all our pulses stir. 
There rises for our happiness the flower face of Her! 




/?■ 



(ii^ 



--#-' 




c^ 



> 




WHO WERE THEY 7 

So thus I tell them over, the sweethearts 

I have had ; 
The fleeting, breath -blow^n kisses ; the 

moments gay and sad ; 
The unforgotten sw^eethearts that whisper 

from the past ; 
The rare, heart -hidden treasures— the 

first one, and the last. 
Who were they } Would you have me 

know every song's refrain ? 
Know every dew -dipped clover that 

nodded in the lane ? 



A^) 




ay 






v^ 







•\ 







4 
1 



/; 



THE FIRST LOVE 

When she was eight and I was ten 
I think my heart awakened then. 
An awkward, boyish wooer I, 
Who knew naught else to do but sigh, 
But she ---Well, women young or old 
Know more than sages ever told. 
Would that we might be back again 
Where she was eight and I was ten. 



>Jg 



« 














One's sweethearts! One may count 

them, as though in dreams he stands 
Where sunlit Past and Future greet him 

with close-linked hands, 
May bow his head and name them, as 

one who would recall 
Forgotten things, while kneeling at the 

confessional. 







^ 



■Jt^ 



'^^•'' 




f> M.% 






4 



r 



\ 



HER LETTERS 

I came upon them yesterday — 

The letters that she wrote to me, 

Which I had safely put away 

Where no o'er-curious eyes might 
see. 

Ah, how vain hopes must rise and fall ! 
How fate may thwart our fond 



lesigns 



If she had only written all 

1 thought I read between the lines! 



V 

1 

V 



V J. 



4^^ . 



/ 



^4 








"THE VINES THAT BUD" 

In an old garden, long ago, 

I whispered something to her cheek; 
She murmured something soft and low 

That she was all too shy to speak. 
And since, the vines that bud and blow 

Upon that olden garden wall 
Are gently breathing to and fro 

An echoed whisper — that is all. 




i- 




n 



'■■■ JSS3«rr^ 







i 



M 



•*» '*^<'. 



wj 




'5 



> 



HER HAIR 

What of her hair? Was it brown or 
gold? 
Black ? Or a shimmering auburn 
tint? 
Where is the lock that you used to hold 
Marveling over its glow and glint? 
Where is it now ? Is it, too, forgot — 
Lost with the treasured forget-me- 
not? 










w 



\\>. 




THE DEBUTANTE 

Her eyes were jas bright 

And as cold as each jewel, 
Her voice was as light 

As her accents were cruel. 
She answered me "No!" 

And with smiling she blent it — 
But she snapped her fan so 

That I knew that she meant it! 








m:k 



4%.^ 










^ 
}> 




4 
/ 






^' 



4» 












HER LIPS 

Sure, lad, her lips were as red as the 
roses 
Blown at the dawning and rinsed 
in the dew, 
Sweet as the honey -filled bud that 
uncloses, 
Coaxing the bees as a rose-bud can 
woo ! 
Never a rose that 1 see but reminds me 
Of the red lips that would blossom 
to smiles — 
Every memory seeks me and finds me 
Counting the hearts that were lost 
through her wiles. 



^^^h^-r^ 






^ 






dS>*^^ 



'<3 




./; 




Who was she ? Did I hold her hand ? 

And did I slyly steal a kiss? 
And did I tell her how I'd planned 

To make her life a dream of bliss ? 

And did I by the skies above 

Swear I was meshed in Cupid's 
spell ? 
And did I murmur words of love ? 

Well, now, I promised not to tell ! 







L 



A)) 




F~o rM /^ Lo pM s En S -y 






iOy 







^^&^^^ 




V. 



(^1) 



:>3 



/^, 



.7 



y 



HER FROWN 

She frowned on me, and forth I went 

To seek the solace of the world, 
By gloom's unwieldy burden bent. 

Into the pit of sorrow hurled. 
She frowned on me again when 1 

Came stolidly back to the town 
She frowned on me — and this is why 

Because I fled at her first frown. 






V 



4. 

f 

5> 



^M<4^^^^^ 



4C^ 






m 




^\,' 



FROM THE BLUE GRASS 

Down the road and up the road all in 

the sunny weather, 
Up the road and down the road we 

galloped on together 
Until at last the cross-roctds came all on 

a gloomy day 
And out upon another path she turned 

and rode away, 



X 



17%^ 




n -.; \ 



J 



Sll 



i: 



9^ 




^^ 






B '•«»«&■ 



4^ 



I 
r 











\, \ 



/ 



HER SMILE 

Sure, do ye know the smile of her? 'Tis 
but another wile of her, 
To tangle hearts and dangle hearts 
as victims of her charms ! 
But who would be afraid of her, dis- 
couraged or dismayed of her } 
All sunny -sweet and honey -sweet, 
her smiles give no alarms. 



/ 






-^^ 




PC 



.<*^. 






i 






<5^ 



J 



<^ 



^ 

^ 





IN AUTUMN 

And once in somber autumn, the time 
of seed and husk, 

We two sat near together and watched 
the creeping dusk 

That faltered through the hazes where 
incense -smoke was hung — 

The smoke at autumn's altar from sum- 
mer's censer swung. 

And where is she? Ah, question of all 
the yesterdays 

If they have taken note of all who 
watched the autumn's haze. 




'-*!;^^ 












-^l 






K 




/ 




THE DINNER 

The day we dined together 

All sunny was the weather ; 

She wore a wondrous gown, and in her 

hat a nodding feather ; 
And care had sHpped its tether — 
But what we ate, or whether 
We ate at all, I do not know. I know 

we dined together ! 






.^ 



^rctf; 






»?#' 



f 



4 

f 



i ( 



\.- 



^ 
% 



>^^^t 



ei 




HER FEET 

All things were sweet of her — Ah, but 
the feet of her ! 
Light as a thistledown blown on 
the breeze. 
Lad, when her merry feet danced *twas 
like fairy feet 
Treading to music in magical keys. 
Little she cared at all whom she ensnared 
at all, 
Little she recked of the pang and 
the smart. 
Sure, all was sweet of her — Ah, but 
the feet of her 
Danced through my life as they 
trod on my heart ! 



< 



L 






%^ 







My Golf Girl ! Times I dream of her 
Above my pipe, a poor old fogy. 

All earnest though my pleadings were 
I could not beat 




■A^iS$iAi' 



>--^5 





W^' 



m 






.V 



(:^j 




4 



/ 



S 



1^ 



HER HAND 

It is so very white and small 

One cannot understand at all 

How it could be so great a prize 

As truly it is in my eyes, 

Nor how, and with such cunning art. 

Relentlessly it holds my heart. 




u 



\ 



\ ( 



IN THE SPOT LIGHT 

This is in confidence: Long, long ago 
I sat and worshiped her from the 
front row. 
Thought her entrancing 
And vowed that her dancing 
Rivaled the music in rhythmical 
flow. 




ft} 



/ 



^^;--^^^^^ 




i-\ 



A BROTHER 

A sister she 

Will be to me, 

And so with joy I greet her — 

I always kiss 

My pretty sis 

Each time I chance to meet her. 






/ 



h. 









c 



■^t^^%^.r J 










^\A. 



V^HERE THE ROLLING TIDE 
COMES IN 

One summer when she ruled the beach 
She charmed me with her smile and 

speech ; 
She vowed eternal faith to me 
That summer there beside the sea. 




X 



My 










y 




/ 



A GLIMPSE 

The day that it was raining 

She came along the street 
And all the little raindrops ran 

To dance about her feet. 
And though she walks the city's ways 

Or clover-tangled lane, 
The folk that look upon her see 

The sunshine in the rain. 



A 












J'Z. 










THE COUNTRY MAID 

A melody that murmurs as softly as a 

hymn 
Where cloisters all are silent and stately 

aisles are dim 
Is this that I am breathing, while once 

again they fade — 
The light and shadow showing my little 

country maid. 
Heartsease and honeysuckle, and fields 

where flowers stir 
In answer to the zephyrs, hold memories 

of her. 










J 



^ Vi 



^x^ 



w. 







^ 
fV 




^j 



-p 




.'V 

\j^ 



^ 






y 



1^ 



WISHES 

There was a flower in her hair — 

I wished that it were I, 
A bracelet on her wrist so fair — 

To have its place I'd sigh. 
And on the day she was a bride 

One more wish came from me 
Another man stood at her side 

And I could not be he. 



f 



t':" 



-v>y.:> 



.--e 












^ 

f 




4 
^ 









X \ 



i' 



THE HERETIC 

Through dim -lit aisles the people throng 

And I come with them, bowed of 
head 
And harking to the holy song 

And to the prayers that are said, 
But, wicked though it be, I say 

My heart would very much prefer 
Some not -so-crowded shrine today — 

A worshiper, I worship her! 



A 

/I 



V 



%:, 



f 









<^X* 



>^S4il^3loT5, 




/^ 



The widow with the haunting eyes 

Once grieved me with her grieving 
And interrupted with her sighs 

The fancies I was weaving. 
Yet, viewing her as one who heeds 

The charm of sun and shower, 
I never saw so many weeds 

Surround so fair a flower. 








l&^" 



^■i'f 



i 



vlk* 



(.. 







1^ 






HER VOICE 

In dreams I hear her singing the old 

songs, down the way, 
The songs of haunting music, sweet as 

the breath of May ; 
Songs lilting with her laughter, that 

bubbled out and shook, 
As light as spray that silvered the ripples 

of the brook. 
The magic of the melody that held me 

overlong 
Until my heart-strings quivered in an 

echo of her song! 




■^^&<:§^- 



J^\ 




^ 

«=:!:_ 



^,^ 



O. PROMISE ME" 

Out of the dreaming haze 

Her face appears to me, 
A maid of nights and days 

She always seemed to be. 
The dawn and twilight skies 

Were ever pictured there — 
The dusk was in her eyes, 

The dawn was in her hair. 








1 I 




J^D IN .^ |_o M (3 e: • 



.€^ 



i: 



:r^^ 



iy^' 






Ia^ r^- ^ 



V: 






^ 



^ 




c^ 



THE TEAR 

There was a tear upon her cheek — 

Whether from pity or from grief 
I had not then the mind to seek; 

I only saw a pink rose leaf 
Upon whose surface was a gleam 

Reflecting all its fairy hue; 
The little tear could only seem 

A laughter -coaxing drop of dew. 






4 

W 
\.-j 



i 






) 






t^ 



i 



fee 



-.-,j^' 




^/' 



A GUARDIAN ANGEL 

She soothed my weary, aching brow. 

She quieted my fevered pains 
And I then made a solemn vow 

She might lead me in Cupid's 
chains. 
But she, with all her gentle lore 

And knowledge of the healing art 
Bade me to talk of that no more --- 

She said she could not treat the 
heart. 





rtf 






a^ 



>fe^^ 



4 



s? 






f 







HER CHEEKS 

In olden days the poets would 

Write blithe ballade and sonnet 
To Her Fair Cheek — 'twas understood 

They thus should write upon it. 
But though I fain would write such rhyme 

I fear I am too simple. 
I know I could not find the time 

To go beyond her dimple. 












^c 





THE BELLE OF THE BALL 

We called it but a masquerade 

But I can never quite forget 
The melody that swept and swayed 

The while we danced the minuet. 
She did not know, or did not care, 

That with her graceful, girlish art 
While dancing to the music there 

She trod each time upon my heart. 



l^r*C> \ 




•^^ C A, 



N^l / 



•y 






Vi 






rr; 



w 



4 



^ 



^^ 







e.. 



/ - 1 \ 






TO THE REAL ONE 

Here's to you, the fairest, 
The sweetest and the rarest, 

Of all the girls in all the world, to 
you who are the best. 
The truest and the nearest, 
The lea lest and the dearest — 

The only one whose many charms 
made me forget the rest. 



'f) 






4 



L 



I 



^ 



^ 



ff 



^ 



_,^". 






























^^..^^ o^Mfe:-. \..r ^'^ 



v-^^ 



♦ aV "^>. . 




















<* *'TV 

















^"-^^^ 

















.^^"-, 










''^<^' :'m^- ^o>'' i'^M'. '-^t-o^' :m^'' ''ov*' f"^^^-. -^--o^ 



.<o. 



SACr 



lOr/'. 



AO^ 



